


Titanic

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Boys Will Be Boys, M/M, Moving In Together, Relationship(s), The things we don't say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11620977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710





	Titanic

Do you know how sometimes in life the reality of something just suddenly hits you?  As if all the facts, the hard reality of things right there in front of you suddenly coalesce taking on a tangible form…. this was one of those moments.  

Q had finally managed to find his way back to his flat after a hellish 73 hours of guiding agents through missions in Bolivia, Thailand, and Vietnam.  He stopped just inside the front entryway setting down his messenger bag and hanging up his coat.  What caught his attention, as he toed off his brogues, were the other pairs of shoes already lined up there, even before he had arrived home. Shoes that were not his.  Not only shoes that weren't his but also coats, rucksacks, carryalls in the entryway also.  

And not only there but things scattered throughout his flat.  Books, movies, videos games that were not his.  Odd pieces of clothing that were not his.  Alcohol in the freezer. Food stuffs in the cupboards.  Gear from MI6 that he knew he hadn't brought home.  Not to mention his bedroom now had a new oversized bed and extra wardrobe storage. Also things had now taken over the spare bedroom.  

The biggest difference, a prominent senior Double O agent who happened to be lounging in his sofa. As a matter of fact, utterly taking up the entire sofa claiming it for his own.  If that wasn't bad enough, his cat… his… curled up on top of him, purring loudly and content.  

Q stood and stared trying to realistically rationalize everything around him.  It was proving difficult since it was all screaming loudly at him… the picture was surreal… not necessarily wrong… but just too much for his overtaxed brain to absorb at the moment.  

“Q? Alright?”  A questioning voice broke through the din in his head. Who knows how long he had been standing there staring.  

Q hesitated a moment pulling his glasses off rubbing his tired eyes in hopes that once he opened then again the world around him would have shifted into a somewhat more normal reality.   But, as things would have it, when he replaced his glasses and opened his eyes, said Double O was still on his sofa sprawled like a huge cat taking ownership.

“Just… what happened here?” Q stammered waving a hand at the room around him. “All these things here...And why didn't I see it happening?”

“What are you babbling about Q?”

“Us…. we… this… whatever the hell this is.”

“Going to need to give me a few more clues.  Not sure what you are on about Q.”

“This!  I don't live here alone any more.   I don't know what to call it… roommates… boyfriends, god I hate that word… partners… oh god… a relationship… I don't know if I can do a relationship.”   And that right there was the reality of it all… fear… because Q was bloody bad at relationships.  Actually it wasn't him, just poor choice of previous boyfriends.

“You know getting into a relationship may have seemed tempting to you at the moment,” Q continued to babble. “But so was getting on the Titanic and we all know what happened there.”

"Overreacting slightly, Q?"    
  
The lounging agent cupped the traitor cat's head, thumbing its velvety ears.  She stretched her forepaws out in front of her and yawned, claws unsheathed and hooked into her perch's stomach.  He didn't even wince.  
  
"If this is a relationship - if it is - then we haven't fucked it up yet.  We haven't killed each other, haven't hit any icebergs that I'm aware of."  
  
"You're making fun of me.  In my flat.  You're taking the piss out of me, because I finally realised you sneakily moved in... oh fuck... You. Moved. In!"  
  
"Are you having a moment, Q?"  An amused deep voice rumbled behind him.  "Or is this your hint that we've outstayed our welcome?"  
  
Q spun round to face the other interloper in his space.  Another blond, at ease... at home, goddamnit...

“You!... You did that on purpose!  Snuck up on me just as you both moved in here.  Slowly.. a piece at a time so I wouldn’t notice it.”

“Well, we could always move out again Q.” The voice that had been ensconced on the sofa was now directly behind him.

“No…. I… You just…”  Q huffed at both of them shoving a hand at the one who stood in front of him and running directly into the other as he tried to turn and flee from his roommate, boyfriend, partner, whatever frustrations they were.  “oh fuck!”

One of them smirked.  The other couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Taking the piss out of me again!”  Q headed directly to the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards knowing there was a bottle of his favourite wine hidden in there somewhere.  Survival was questionable at the moment. The ship was sinking fast.

The two agents trailed him wearing matched grins.  One took the bottle from him and opened it while the other fetched a glass. Not a glass Q had ever purchased, he noted.  
  
"You know, the problem with you, Quartermaster..." A glass pressed into his hand, "is to get your acceptance of anything, it needs to be done by stealth," one chuckled.  
  
"Otherwise you will find a reason never to change anything," the other agreed.  
  
"You have a flair for the dramatic..."  
  
"And a tendency to overthink..."  
  
Q found himself steered to the counter and then lifted onto a bar stool, one mountain of muscle on either side.  It felt... comfortable.  It annoyed him immensely.

"I'm on the Titanic and it's sinking fast..." Q mutters into his glass of wine.  "It's struck an iceberg.  No... two icebergs." gulping down a huge drink holding it out to be refilled even before completely emptying it.  
  
"You don't need a lifeboat Quartermaster."  The one on the left of him stated leaning against the counter in Q's personal space.    
  
"We'll save you..." the other chimed in moving closer until their shoulders touched. Both glanced at each other over Q's dark curly head, huge grins on their faces.  
  
"I am so doomed... so fucking doomed." Q muttered now holding his glass two handed.

"I think we prefer to think of ourselves as anchors tethering you to sanity and sleep."  
  
One large hand curled around Q's hip.  Another relieved him of both his wine glass and his glasses.  
  
"Hey!" He protested, but thick fingers were kneading the knots in his tight shoulders and more were wandering over his scalp.  Actually, he was starting to consider that there were benefits to anchors, even if they were entirely too settled in his habitat.  
  
"Anchors," he murmured, rolling sore muscles under the attentive hands.  "Yes.  Something like that anyway..."

“Icebergs.  Bloody icebergs.  Not one but…” Q closed his eyes and sank into the feel of their large calloused hands on him.   “Oh yes... right there!  Thumb just a tad to the left please.”

Q sighed deeply as talented fingers found just the right spot that sent a shudder through him. “Ship is definitely sinking.”


End file.
